This is lnhammer's fault.

[shweta_narayan]

..Which may suggest that poets are contagious?

Here I am, quietly

My once futures --
     hovercar to my lab
my gallery my
tragic early death
                         on Mars

unmourned.  Now
under silver air snow-tasting,
dew-drop meteorites from
shivering pines, the snap
of our new-wakened fire
I have

hot porridge
for two, and poetry
quietly brewing

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